


The Galaxy's Shooting Star

by cinnamonsummer



Category: Kirby (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Crack Treated Seriously, Loss, Meta Knight Cries The Whole Time, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 06:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonsummer/pseuds/cinnamonsummer
Summary: And the day his fire died.





	The Galaxy's Shooting Star

Meta Knight was crying.

Meta Knight was crying like a _child._

Was he a fool to be crying so hard over a sword? Was it pitiful? Was it dishonorable? 

He'd be damned if he cared anymore.

Galaxia had _shattered_. The brilliant blade was nothing more than thousands and thousands of shards, so tiny they looked like stardust, scattered across the ground around him in a sheer mockery of all his past accomplishments.

 _Weak_ , he venomously spat at himself through the onslaught of hot tears spilling from his eyes. So _weak_. If he weren't so weak, this wouldn't have happened. If he had been that much stronger, smarter—Galaxia would have still been in one piece, gripped safely in his hand. They would have gone home together, like they always did. 

He'd taken such good care of her. He'd always taken such good care of her. 

Meta Knight remembered thinking it was the end of the world when he'd found a splotch of _mud_ on her the first time they'd braved some wet and wild weather. She'd been with him through everything. Every disaster, every triumph. Every fight, he won because of her. He won because she gave him the strength to.

First, it was denial. I can fix her, he breathed unsteadily through tear-blurred eyes, desperately pawing at the bounty of shards on the ground. I can gather her pieces and take her to— _Magolor_ , or something. He was a wizard, wasn't he? It was a magical attack that had done this to her, so maybe magic could fix her. 

Wishful thinking, all of it.

He'd failed her, and that was all there was to it. He'd failed her, when he had promised he never would. What was he now, without her? What was a knight without a sword? 

What was a shooting star without a galaxy?

He remembered the first time her soul appeared to him in his dreams. Nova, she was beautiful. Equal parts eerie and comforting, there always seemed to be a smile on her face. She would never have anything to say, but Meta Knight heard it all. Soft, fluttery touches along his arm that whispered "thank you for treating me so well," and unblinking ruby eyes that reassured "I'm yours."

Often, she would just take his hand, and hold it until he awoke. She would return the warmth he had held her with during the day, keep him safe from the terrors of the night like he would do for her in the light. 

Other times, they would dance.

They would dance across the cosmos, and she would lead, every perfect, synchronized spin and sway writing more to their story, a sub rosa tale of love in war. His virtue was hers. His ambitions, his mistakes, they made them together. Meta Knight never wanted the story to end. Never thought it _would_ end. 

He could no longer decipher how much time had passed since the unfathomable twist of fate came down and crushed him. How long he had been standing there, drowning in tears and anguish. Pleading upon deaf ears, please, somebody, _please_. Bring her back. Bring her back to me.

He felt a vague flickering of a presence inside his heart, a dying flame—as if something was trying to soothe him, trying to tell him that it was going to be okay. That there were other worthy swords who would be blessed to have him as their master. Was it her?

"You're the only one I want," he sobbed, unconcerned in that moment where the feeling in his heart was coming from, or if it was really even there. So, so pitifully childish, but he didn't care. 

The wind was picking up. It was reprehensibly unorthodox, but the best he could think to do was to gather her pieces into a glass jar, one of the many haphazard knick-knacks he stored in his Dimensional Cape. He scowled. How quickly he would trade his cape to be able to hold Galaxia again.

His tears ran silently now, seemingly endless. His vision was blurry and his mouth was dry. He felt weak all over, head dangerously light, but you'd sooner have to kill him to release the vice-grip he had on the jar in his hands. 

His crew soon found him, standing still as a statue amidst the rubble of a fierce fight, bar his tattered, billowing cape. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was very, very wrong. 

Meta Knight's golden eyes had lost their glow. 

Sailor Dee gasped as if they had stumbled upon a murder scene. And to their credit, that was what it had felt like to Meta Knight. Axe, Mace, Trident and Javelin hung their heads, hearts stinging for their Lord and his beloved blade. And what a dazzling, powerful blade she was. They had always admired her.

"...Let's get you back to the ship, My Lord," Vul said somberly, a wing placed gingerly on his old friend's pauldron. A comforting gesture, had it been under any other circumstance. "You can tell us what happened when you're ready."

Everyone felt far away, he was numb and prickling, but he managed a weak nod. 

* * *

They may as well have been angels, his crew.

A heartbroken Meta Knight was a truly unforeseen tribulation, but they did their best through warm blankets and hot cocoa.

He was so, so tired.

His right hand felt wrong. His whole arm felt wrong. It felt too light, as if he was missing it altogether. He flexed his empty palm and longed for her.

The jar on his dresser was beguiling him again. He gave a slow, shaky sigh, and took it in his hands. 

Meta Knight wanted to hold it forever. _Stare_ at it forever. Pretend that he could still feel her warmth coursing into his veins, pervading his body until he was strong, and fearless again.

The tiny, smidgen of rationality left in Meta Knight's brain told him otherwise. It told him that holding on to the jar would only taunt him, and remind him of his utter failure as her master. He rubbed his thumb along the glass, brows furrowed.

He thought about what _Galaxia_ would want, and he thought hard.

Then, he made his decision.

As the Halberd ascended the twilit sky later that evening, up, and up, until they were among the stars—Meta Knight stood alone on the edge of the deck, and he scattered Galaxia's remains into the vast cosmos that was their dance floor only yesterday.

"I love you," he whispered, forbidding his voice to break. "You were my galaxy."

She'd loved him, too; her lone shooting star.

And they danced in his dreams just one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> #PrayForMetaKnight2K19.....................................


End file.
